After the game wrapped up in a haze of lingering touches and whispered teases, I slipped away from the group, my body still humming with the aftershocks of everything that had happened. My thighs felt sticky, my skirt rumpled, and my mind kept replaying the way that girl’s fingers had worked me so thoroughly. But the real spark that refused to die was the memory of that secret site—the one with the priest that had started it all. I needed more.
I found him in the quiet corner where he’d been earlier, phone in hand. With a shy smile and a lingering brush of my fingers against his arm, I convinced him to let me borrow it for a little while. “Just need to check something,” I murmured. He handed it over without much protest, his eyes flicking over my flushed cheeks with curiosity.
Alone in a
